Once Upon A December
by TsukiBooks
Summary: (Sequel to Twas the Night.) After 15-months away at War, the last thing Athos wants is attend a New Year's Eve Ball hosted by the King in order to honour the Musketeers. Yet, the last thing Athos was expecting was to be reunited with the beautiful Noelle after so much time.


**Author's Note: Finishing Twas the Night gave me a wave of inspiration. And I just couldn't let Noelle and this plot go. So Enjoy!**

 **Summary: (Sequel to Twas the Night.) After 15-months away at War, the last thing Athos wants is attend a New Year's Eve Ball hosted by the King in order to honour the Musketeers. Yet, the last thing Athos was expecting was to be reunited with the beautiful Noelle after so much time.**

 **Genre: Humour & Drama.**

 **Rating: T, just in case.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Musketeers or any books/films/songs/characters that are featured or referenced in this Fanfiction.**

 **Once Upon A December.**

 **Chapter One: Coming Home.**

 _Thud. Thud. Thud._ It had been the heavy footfall of hundreds of men that set the steady beat that led them hoe.

After 15-Months away at War, 15-Months of bloodshed – and the dispute was settled in a day, deemed as a "Misunderstanding."

A hell of a misunderstanding, for it to lead to War.

It took weeks to return home from the frontlines. They had to carry home their wounded, in the freezing cold of December, through snow and rain.

They had been welcomed home, of course. It was Christmas Eve when they made their final march to the Garrison. Crowds had gathered in the streets, clapping and cheering for the return of their never-wavering Musketeers.

Athos led them, riding in the front. Although he had spent most of his time in the past weeks on the road anywhere but in the front. He left D'Artagnan to lead, as he had his sights on what he'd left behind, whilst he split his time between the two carts of wounded, where Aramis would always be found caring for them, and the rear with Porthos; who watched endlessly for ambush whilst picking up stragglers. And when Athos wasn't with them, he would ride up and down the procession of Musketeers, ensuring that everyone was alright; passing around food and drink and blankets.

Yet for the last leg of the journey; every Musketeer had stopped just outside of Paris, until Athos took up his rightful place at the front, and led them home to the Garrison.

They were met at the Garrison by the Wives and Families of Musketeers. Constance had rushed into D'Artagnan's arms, and they embraced for the first time in over a year.

Treville was there to meet them also. He and Athos grasped each other's hands tightly, their eyes meeting in understanding and respect. Aramis, who was far freer with his affections, held nothing back as he hugged the very reluctant Minister for War. And Porthos met the former Captain's eye, and nodded respectfully and he fondly patted the sword that had once belonged to Treville. The older Man nodded him, smiling.

That night, the Garrison was very quiet, although perhaps no one slept. Exhaustion from the journey and fatigue from the War was finally overwhelming them all. Although there had been longer wars, this one had taken it's toll on them all. And finally, they were home.

The next day, Christmas Day, had been much the same. The Men sat in huddles around fires; sharing wine and food. Conversation was not jolly nor was it of sad things, it was of life; simple things like weather and boots. It was a soft murmur around the Garrison.

Athos, Aramis, Porthos, D'Artagnan, Constance and Treville sat beneath the Captain's Office, at the Four Inseparables' beloved table. Simply enjoying being together.

Treville filled them in on who was currently making whispers in the gullible King's ear; a man named Philippe Achille; the Governor of Paris.

Constance, bless her heart, had taken Aramis to one-side, to tell him about Son; all about how big he'd gotten and how he'd recently said his first word.

That night, past midnight, the Garrison was all but deserted. Treville had bid them farewell. Constance had gone to bed. But Athos, Aramis, Porthos and D'Artagnan stayed up just a little while longer. They shared a toast; they were at last home.

 _Thud. Thud. Thud._ That was the tempo of his pulse beating heavily in his temple.

Twas Boxing Day, and Athos, with Aramis and Porthos, had needed to attend Court of the behalf of the Musketeers.

Yet King Louis continued to rattle on about the New Years Eve Ball, that he just decided to have. There had been no discussion concerning the War Effort, aside from briefly acknowledging the New Musketeer Captain's return.

"It has to be elegant!" Louis was saying, and Athos grit his teeth. "I want an orchestra, guests must attend in gold colours, and I will not be satisfied if Monsieur Bonnet does not cater for the event!"

"Yes, Sire." Achille said, bowing lowly. Glancing over his shoulder, Athos saw Aramis and Porthos exchanging weary looks. Not another one.

"Naturally, the Musketeers will lead to Security." Louis said, and suddenly Athos could not stop himself.

"They most certainly will not." He declared, in a more harsh tone than he would usually take with the King. A hush fell over the Court Hall. Everyone stared at Athos, completely taken aback, including Louis.

"I beg your pardon?" He chuckled awkwardly, as if he thought he'd misheard.

Athos squared his shoulders, not going back on his principles now; "I said the Musketeers will not lead security. I'm sure the Red Guard and the Palace Guard would have it in hand."

Louis looked completely astonished; "But…the Red Guard and the Palace Guard are not the Musketeers."

"No. Neither did they attend the War, though." He replied, dryly.

"I…I don't understand." Louis said, pinching the bridge of his nose; as if trying to fight an impending headache, poor thing. "Your refusing me?"

"Yes, I am." Athos answered, bluntly. "For if I return to the Garrison, to my Men, who have been travelling through snow and rain and mud for weeks after over a year of War, and give out the order that they shall be the security at your Ball on New Year's Eve, then you will must certainly face losing an entire regiment; for I am sure that every Musketeer will then hand in their commission."

The entire Hall was quiet, still stunned by Athos' bluntness. In his place at the King's right, as Minister for War, Treville smiled proudly at him. He always had faith in Athos as a successor, and this was one of those times he was proven right.

"With all due respect, your Majesty, my men are tired." Athos went on, sighing. "They have been at War for over a year and have barely returned home. They have fought hard for King and Country, and will continue to do so. But I would recommend that you do not take them granted. Allow them rest. At least until after New Year."

"Too right!" Porthos boomed suddenly, making Aramis snort. Athos shot them gave a warning look, and they both tried to keep straight faces – failing miserably.

Louis was still for a moment, the entire room watching for his reaction. Athos' refusal was going to go one of two ways – the King was either going to throw a strop, or he was going respect his wishes. Either way, Athos was sure to stand his ground on this.

"Quite right, Captain Athos." He said, at last, his voice taking that tone when he was coming up with one of his hair-brain ideas. "The effort of the Musketeers should be fully appreciated. They have been nothing but Loyal and Patriotic in the name of France. Therefore…"

Therefore!

"I wish to adapt the New Year's Eve Ball to celebrate them." Louis declared, grinning. "All Musketeers are, naturally, invited and may bring whomever they wish."

Athos stared at the King, it being his turn to be taken by surprise. Behind him, Aramis and Porthos were no longer grinning like lunatics, their faces having fallen in ultimate shock. This was the last thing that they had expected.

"Everyone should be adorned in royal gold and musketeer blue. The Fleur-De-Lis shall decorate the walls. Every Musketeer in attendance will be honoured!"

Athos continued to stare at Louis, shocked. He sighed, resigning himself to the fact that now all of his Men will hate him for this night of glamour whilst he was certain most of them would want to see the New Year in drunk and in a dodgy tavern somewhere.

"Very well." He said, shortly. There was nothing more he could say.

Treville, the unfeeling bastard, looked close to laughter.

 _To Be Continued…_

 **Please review, I'd love to know what you think. And keep on reading – there's more to come in the chapters ahead!**


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